I am swimming in a pool of yellowy green water wearing a chartreuse one-piece.
I am driving through a ghost town in a pink convertible blasting vintage soul into the dusty air.
I am lying on a pink candlewick bedspread in the black swan motel reading a paperback copy of Flowers in the Attic.
I am drinking Lemon & Paeroa in a café with red formica tables and cracked vinyl barstools.
There is a light brown stain on my lime green bri-nylon minidress.
My hair is showing its unnatural colour at the roots.
I find myself chewing on foiled strands.
I am riding a rusty bike to the foursquare.
I buy four granny smith apples, one royal gala and one unstickered yellow apple.
My hair is lank and greasy so I cover it with a leopardskin headscarf which I twist into a knot on top of my head.
I spend eight hours at work wearing a brown velvet dress with a pair of yellow tights.
I drink coffee from a red paper cup and read gurlesque poetry.
I am listening to 1960’s ye ye singers on a portable record player.
I am at the mall with my friends buying stickers and fake flowers from the two dollar store.
I swing on a swing in the local park in turned up stove-pipes and ballet flats.
I tie a pale blue ribbon around my ponytail.
I buy groceries at the supermarket.
My bed is unmade.
I spend an hour staring out the window at the corrugated iron roof of the house next door.
I look at the i-princesses glittering on-screen.
I am pulling on a rabbit fur cape.
I am casting off kid skin gloves
There is rain outside.
There is gold glitter all over the bedroom floor
The bathroom sink is filled with cut daisies
Sometimes I think of escaping my hometown.
I can imagine us in a field of marigolds.
It’s broken, but I like it here.